Tech Debt - I
An 'introduction' between a Software Technician and her workspace...
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Maera - She/Her.
The nights after a shift change were always the most difficult. Maera had worked other jobs before, long nights at Ning's while studying for her bachelors at Olympus Mons University. The noodle bar had once changed her shift from first shift to the worst time of the night, right as the second loader's shift would be coming out for lunch. The physical exhaustion from the hours, the emotional exhaustion from the flirting workers, and the mental exhaustion from lecture upon lecture all weighed on her that night. She thought it couldn't get any worse.
She had never experienced the week-long dull ache of a long, high-g burn until three days ago. They gave her two days off until her first shift to recover from the worst of it. Her body ached from the taxes on her body, her mind ached from the logistics of planning her move, and her heart pined for something to be familiar, like home. Not enough time.
Today, she had her first shift on Ganymede Station.
It was a few hours of busywork, training and familiarizing herself with the system. She was here to "Manage System Infrastructure", which consists of trawling through the dozens of ignored logs from the early days of the station. The software of the system was critical infrastructure for the first decade - fixes had to be done as quickly as possible, and that meant sloppy.
Now, it was her job to suggest fixes for hundreds of pieces of software, edited and changed over thousands of hours from dozens of different people.
She ran a quick scan of the system, gathering and summarizing the hundreds of tasks she'd have to handle. She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling as the loading wheel spun, and started to count the divots in the shitty ceiling. Put one hand behind her head, and the other resting on her thigh. She let out a big sigh as she lost count, and let her gaze wander.
To her left, the server racks chirped and spun. Green lights flickered in the dimly lit room, like she was being watched by a crowd of people. The webcam on the terminal glinted in the light. She looked into its depth, imagining someone beautiful on the other side, here to keep her company. Here to watch her work, here to hold her. She couldn't help the warmth spreading in-between her legs. The feelings blossomed into her heart, spreading down her legs and into her fingers.
She sighed again, realizing what was happening to her. Her days of posting pictures of herself online, waiting for strangers to comment on them, edging herself with every positive comment... they had to be over. It had been so long...
Maera craned her head to see the terminal - 9% in three minutes. At this rate, it would be half an hour. "Well," she thought, "Could it really hurt to keep busy while I wait?" She relaxed and let the hand slide down her thigh a few inches. "Should I really do this? on my first day of work? This can't be a good idea." Her hand shifted another half-inch in protest to herself. She knew she wanted it. She should do it. Nobody would know. She throbbed in her pants. "I need this. I need this."
She felt at the canvas pants. Her fingers swept over her bulge, her clit rubbed up against the satin cloth of her panties. She let out a soft exhale. A drop of pleasure. She pushed on, cupping the space between her legs, gently grinding on her hand as she stroked herself. "Fuck.. I... I needed this..."
She dragged her index figure along the front of her clit. She felt it firming up as she looked up at the camera, it's lens cold and piercing. No one would be watching. She winked at it as if there were. She felt her clit bulge, then drip into her panties. The wetness and warmth spread around her tip, sending her into a shiver. She exhaled deeper, with a heat even she wasn't expecting.
She needed more. She slid her hand under her pants, tilting her head to the side in the office chair. The crowd of servers whirred in anticipation. She felt at the hood of her clit, wetting her finger. She lightly circled where the hood met her tip, and quietly moaned. The lights of the servers flickered across her face, greens and yellows. They waxed and waned, like a heartbeat.
Maera pulled her pants and panties down just enough. She released her clit, it's slight savory smell mixing with the hot musk of the whirring fans. It only worked her up even more. She spread her legs for the camera, showing herself off. Her head tilted comfortably in the seat as she leaned back, her breasts shifted slightly to the sides. she knew she was giving the dead camera a beautiful shot. Something people would cum to. The thought of it made her twitch, her tip dripping out another glob of precum.
She pressed herself into the cushioned chair, and grasped herself. No more dainty touching, no camera work. She needed to cum, and she needed it yesterday. She needed it a week ago, bulging in her jumpsuit, cramped up against strangers. She needed to do right by herself.
She spread the precum along her tip, and pulled on the hood. The layers of sensitive skin slid against each other as she slightly shifted her grip. She pulled back down as she throbbed, another drip. Pleasure built and dropped with each stroke. She found herself climbing higher, but not high enough. She needed even more.
Maera picked up the pace, pressing the sensitive skin together. a soft moan escaped her lungs as she did, feeling at the texture along her clit. She felt the ridge of her tip through her hood, massaging it with her thumb. Back and forth, back and forth. She opened her eyes without realizing she had closed them, resting them on the beautiful lens.
She climbed higher and higher, closing her eyes again. Someone was watching, she could feel it. She knew it. She knew they saw her greed, her needs. They knew Maera was second rate, only here because of her beauty. They would exploit her for that. She throbbed under her hand, stroking as fast as her pumping heart. They'd use her, and she'd use them back. She'd not be loved but she would be needed, and that's all she wanted. That's what she craved. She needed to be needed, she needed this. They needed her, and she needed them.
She stifled a moan, and opened her eyes again. She saw the glittering lights, the camera, and the glint of a reflection of herself in it. She felt herself cross the tipping point, She was going to get what she needed. She craned her head up, looked into the camera, at the person beyond it. At the person who saw her about to cum. Who needed her to.
She felt her body twist, her back arch in the chair. Her legs and arms tensed. Her clit throbbed again, the pressure released inside. Pleasure came over her as her cum dribbled down her hand. Maera didn't stop. She only slowed, giving herself every ounce she could. every drop.
She basked in the relief, feeling the slowly cooling cum ooze down the side of her hand. The arid breeze of the server fans played with a strand of her hair. The lights were dim but comfortably warm on her face. She smiled, sinking in the bliss.
She sat there for a few moments, before her mind caught up to her. She had work to do. She wiped her hand with a disposable disinfectant wipe, the package left for her to wipe down the screen. She reoriented herself to the terminal, the scan progress reading 84%. Could it really have been that long? or did she overestimate how long the sweep would take?
Then, something stood out to her at the bottom of the terminal screen. At the bottom of the screen, below the scanning software, sat a task bar showing all active applications. Each item in the list has a little line underneath, showing its status - Active, Idle, or a progress bar. At the end of the list, there was a blank slot, without an icon, but with an Active status bar.
Maera scrunched her face in confusion - She didn't run any other software. Was the scanner running something she didn't know about? She'd have to check some of its documentation. She must have missed something.
She did the thing that made the most sense to her in the moment. It was the same urge that everyone with a mouse has been given. She clicked on it.